Fair Guidance
by Sarvihaara
Summary: Firenze knows he shouldn't ruffle the smooth lines of fate, but something inside him is fighting.


A/N: This is an expansion of a scene from _HP and the Philosopher's Stone_, set in the forbidden forest when Firenze saves Harry from Voldemort, who is drinking the unicorn's blood. Some sentences (all the dialogue plus a few others) have been taken word for word from the book. I do not own these sentences and I don't own the centaurs, Harry, Hagrid or Hermione, JKR does. P.S. I love reviews!

**  
Fair Guidance**

  
[when the world is changing right before your eyes, sometimes you can't just let it ride.]

  
He'd heard it from a distance, a scream. He knew who was in this forest, knew of the unfolding events. The planets were unusually bright tonight, Mars especially, and they had revealed danger. Through the trees in the direction of the sounds, pounding on the soft earth, ducking under low branches instinctively. Around a large oak trunk and the scene solidifies before him. A moment's hesitation, then he gallops, jumps. The hunched hooded figure, scampering to the side, escaping the impact of his hooves by mere centimeters. Without faltering the figure continues sideways to be engulfed by the secrets and shadows of the forbidden forest. Looking up, the danger past, the horrific sight is viewed in more detail. A brilliant sapphire colour shimmering as his lids close, hiding the temporary watery texture of his eyes. Turn and forget. Detachment, that's the key. 

Before him another figure is crouched, fallen on knees upon soft leaf litter. A young boy with messed inky hair, shadows across his features. His hand drops from his forehead to reveal a livid scar contrasting against whitewashed skin. Looking quizzically down from where he stands looming above the human, muscles twitch, tail swishes as a habit. He knew who he was. The Potter boy.

--

He slows to a trot, catching his breath. Satisfied with the distance now separating them from what his clear young eyes had unfortunately taken in. A jerk of the head flicks his white-blond hair off his face. Down his back sweat gleams from his sprint. The Potter boy griping his sides for dear life.

He'd seen it and he wished he hadn't. He knew though, the events that were developing, so it was no surprise. One skyward glance through the tree tops revealing not just a midnight blanket littered with glowing stars and planets, but an alphabet spelling out the future. He had read these happenings, knew of what was to come. Wishing he had interpreted them incorrectly. Foretelling the future was rarely a blessing.

And now he had interfered with fate. Detachment, he thought again. But he had failed to disconnect his body, his mind, his emotions in the past, and this time was no different. 

Playing over future events in the mind stands worlds apart from actually seeing the scene acted out before your eyes. The smell of fresh blood tainting the air. Teeth buried in soft sacred flesh. Red contrasting with pure white as scarlet liquid trickles down, across lips, over a silhouetted chin. Drip, drip. Splattering on a white stomach, on slender milky legs spread at awkward angles against the dark forest floor.

How could he not react? Not save a human as the evil that had caused this sight advanced upon him? A boy who he realised after had once saved them all? His ears ring with the words Bane had said when the Potter boy was found on his back. 'Have you no shame? What is that to do with us? It is not our business...' Harsh tones reinforced with an anger of apprehension.

A bitter wind whips around the thick vertical trunks, enclosing his body. Chills on his damp coat, bare chest and stomach. Glistening pale flanks, muscles twitch again. Aware of the weight of the boy sitting on his back. The forest held many evils; shadows of darkness, and his young eyes had seen them all. Detachment was survival, and faltering and failing to do so had hit hard on his soul. Care only for yourself, Ronan had always repeated, a centaur lives a life of solitary. He tried to push the image of the fallen unicorn from his mind, but couldn't.

Inner conflict. He knew that he could not sit back and await what he knew was to happen, his knowledge straining away, unused. And he could not ignore the strong desire to fight; a yearning that was held captive inside him. But he knew, just like Bane had said, that tampering with the dealings of fate was dangerous. He was a centaur. He was concerned with what had been foretold, not what he could do to change it. Yet above all, he knew that he set himself against what was lurking in this forest.

The Potter boy was asking questions. 'Why's Bane so angry? What was the thing you saved me from anyway?' The image of Bane and his flashing eyes, kicking his back legs in anger, washing through his head. He wanted to help this boy, but had he done too much already? How much was damaging? He'd already saved him; maybe other heroic acts could be kept for another time. His inner battle continued, mind bating back and forth. A soul full of information this boy was hungering for. He had been waiting to unleash it on someone, had he not?

After all, this boy could very well save them all again.

Through a dense patch of trees, the centaur came to a stop, mind resolved. 'Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?' It had started. A single push sending a rolling boulder in motion, destruction in its path, unstoppable. He was again tampering with the heavens. He hinted, and Harry Potter, smart, caught on quickly. A nervous beating of his heart against his ribcage, his head slightly dizzy because he was going against what he had grown up to believe but knew in his heart was right.

Harry Potter's voice, cracking. 'You mean that was _Vol_-' 

Chaos through the trees, breaking their voices. A young girl running towards them and Hagrid puffing behind. Slightly startled, used to the quiet of isolation. But the centaur knew he had done what he had wanted to do.

'This is where I leave you. You are safe now.' A few last words and he was off, hooves on the ground, wind sending shivers down his spine. The darkness surrounding his ivory coat and pale skin. Striking blue eyes catching slivers of moonlight in the darkness.

  
~Sarvi 20/1/01.

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